


reflected light, a hollow moon

by impeccably_stressed



Category: Shepherds of Haven (Interactive Fiction)
Genre: Angst Warning, F/F, F/M, M/M, Whump, is whump even still used?, look this is all angst, things are not...happy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-25
Updated: 2018-08-25
Packaged: 2019-07-01 17:21:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15778617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/impeccably_stressed/pseuds/impeccably_stressed
Summary: Based on thispost."What if an Endarkened took the MC's shape, would their RO be able to defeat it?"It is an E V I L and A N G S T Y post and it made me cry, so in revenge I'm making all of you crybecause how dare you.Enjoy! :D





	1. reflexive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _" Trouble would definitely hesitate, but ultimately close his eyes and pull the trigger. It would make him sick to his stomach afterwards, though." _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Male MC/Trouble

It’s reflexive, the way his breath hitches at the sound of his lover’s voice.

“Trouble! Trouble it’s _me_ , tell them it’s _me, please!_ ”

The impostor’s yanked down onto his knees.

An execution. It has to be. There’s no other way.

“Trouble!”

Fake, fake, fake, not real, not real—

“Trouble, please!” And Trouble panics. How could he not? It looks, it sounds, it _smells_ like him, but it’s not, that’s not him, he tells himself, it’s not. _It’s not._

He _prays_ it’s not.

His lover—the _impostor_ strains against his chains, pleading, begging and Trouble has to look away from the sight of him.

“Trouble,” he says, more softly. “ _Please_ …after all this…?”

And it’s reflexive, the tweaking of his heart at the thoughts and memories but they’re of another man, not the one begging for his life right in front of him. Not him, not him.

_Please not him_.

The man—the impostor—slouches in his restraints, resigned.

“Commander?” one of the recruits calls at him, and _gods_ does Trouble wish Blade were here.

“I—I’ve got this,” Trouble says in his most commander-y voice, but it cracks anyway, weak with guilt that shouldn’t be there.

He grabs at the gun strapped to his thigh, checking to make certain there’s bullets and of course there’s bullets but he’s just wasting time now, because maybe…maybe there was a mistake? Maybe Blade will come running in all dramatic, commanding everyone to stop, it’s him, it’s _him_ , and…and…

A recruit yelps, snapping Trouble’s eyes back up in time to see the impostor pulling at the chains, dragging one of the recruits towards his gaping maw.

_Reflexive_. His arm and trigger-finger work before his mind catches up. He sees the bullet sailing, trained onto his lover’s heart, and then Trouble blinks.

He’s on the floor, hands and knees, heaving what’s left of his lunch. It intermingles with black, black ichor.

 

* * *

 

It’s been days, days and days of sleep and rest and food that should be delicious but tastes like ashes in his mouth. Worried looks and hushed whispers seem to trail him after him like ghosts haunting the back of his head, and Blade can’t come soon enough to take back command.

He sighs into his pillow, wishes he could blink and everything would be back to norm—

“Oh shit!” Trouble leaps back and tumbles out of bed.

“Sorry! Sorry I didn’t mean to startle you!” And he knows that voice, knows that laugh, it’s him and—

And it’s reflexive, the way his breath hitches when he looks into his lover’s eyes, and can’t bear to hold his gaze.


	2. safe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> __  
>  " Ayla wouldn’t be able to do it; she acts tough but she’s a softie inside and would be very affected by seeing her lover beg for their life. Someone else would have to do it."   
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Female MC/Ayla

“Ayla, _my darling_ —”

Ayla turns away, can’t look.

“— _please! Help me!_ ”

But she knows this trick, luring you in so you think they’re a friend, a _lover_ —

“Stop them! Please! Ayla!”

It’s like red touching yellow; venomous, poison, _dangerous snake_ , keep away, don’t even engage, leave me _alone_ —

“ _Ayla_ …” she sobs, and Ayla has to leave, can’t bear to watch.

She hears Blade unsheathe his sword and she stumbles out the room, can’t remember where her _own_ room is, where is it, safe, safe, _please_ —

She hears her lover’s voice howl in pain and it’s like poison in her heart, makes her limbs weak and she falls into a corner, sobs so hard that the poison _must_ come out, it must, take it out, take it out, it _hurts_ …

 

* * *

 

Darkness. Darkness is safe, sometimes. It means others keep away from _you_ , from _your_ spot, keep their distance, drop their meals and run and you don’t even have to scavenge that day, because everyone is afraid of the dark sometimes.

Not that she could scare them much without it. Skinny limbs are never intimidating, but even her magic feels leaden. Sometimes people knock softly at her door, and she can’t even summon enough will to blast the door into their face.

At least it’s just to leave food.

But this one knocks, and knocks, and knocks.

Those are the worst, the ones who test your limits, call your bluff, that you’re not really strong, it’s just pretend, because in the nighttime, everyone’s in the darkness and everyone’s afraid.

_Knock knock knock._

Except this person.

She hears clicking noises from the door— _a key_ , that’s not fair!

“Get out!” Ayla yells, summoning just enough wind to shut the door on her lover’s face and—

Ayla freezes.

It can’t be. You always hallucinate when you’re starved, when you want something so badly your mind plays tricks on you…

“Ayla?”

And Ayla’s heart leaps in her ribcage like a hare ensnared.

Her lover opens the door again, just a sliver, enough for the light of the torches to slice into her room, to illuminate everything in gold.

Ayla has to squint at the halo of her form, soft curves, soft smiles, a soft laugh just for her…she has to wipe at the tears springing in her eyes. She jumps from her spot without thinking, rushes into waiting arms, warm and lovely. Ayla nuzzles into the softness of her lover’s chest, hears her heartbeat and _breathes._

_I hope this time you’re real._


	3. unbending

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> __  
>  " Lavinet wouldn’t be able to do it. She’d turn away, angry at herself and her own “weakness,” and have to ask someone else to do it. "   
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Male MC/Lavinet

_But his eyes are as warm as always_ , she thinks as she looks into the demon’s eyes. He stares back at her, pleading, and for half a heartbeat she’s tempted to untie him and run far away from this place.

“Enough of this,” she says, cutting through her own thoughts, and pulls her rapier from its hilt. It glints in the sunlight, blinds the man-thing bound before her.

He begins to panic now, struggles in his bonds. “Please don’t do this, you know me!”

Lavinet huffs and flourishes her blade in the air as she trains it on his neck with what she hopes comes off as ease. “Don’t waste my time with more lies, demon.”

She evens her breath, steeling herself… _just pierce his neck and it will all be over._

Lavinet aligns her sword to his throat and he swallows thickly, like he always does when he’s nervous. Without thinking, her eyes flick up to his face to see that pleading look that so reminds her of a puppy, when he’s annoyed her in some way and just wants to make things right…

“ _Lavi._ ” the demon whispers in her lover’s voice. “ _Please._ ”

It should harden her heart, it should turn her nerves to steel, it should make her want to kill that demon for _daring_ ever impersonate her love, but all it does is melt her, strike her, reforge her into something brittle that snaps at the merest whisper.

She shudders and closes her eyes, all she can hear is him calling her name and then the air is filled with dreadful roar that shakes her bones, makes her very blood shiver.

Someone pulls her back. When she opens her eyes she sees the demon lying slack, face-to-face with her on the floor.

Above it, true steel glints, unbending, slick with ichor, and it slips from the beast’s chest. Blade calls for a cloth to wipe his sword with and Lavinet looks down to see her own rapier lying forgotten on the floor.

It quivers uselessly as she returns it to its sheath with trembling hands.

 

* * *

 

“Lavi,” he calls softly from her doorway, and she yanks her gaze from the blanks of the page back to the words in her book.

She makes a show of turning her head and smiling as he enters her room. She snaps her book shut and tosses it somewhere on her pillows as he drops himself onto her bed.

“I’d heard what happened,” he says with a shake of his head and her smile falters. “I can’t imagine…Lavi…I’m so sorry. I should have—”

“It’s _alright_ , darling,” she coos, tossing her hair back and standing up with more force than necessary. “The issue has been dealt with,” she grabs her rapier and ties it around her waist without removing her eyes from her lover, “best to move on and make sure it never happens again. _Never._ Do you understand me?”

Her lover only nods and wipes at his tiredness on his face. He turns away from her. “Lavi—”

“This…entire affair has been most enlightening,” she says, tightening her belt for emphasis. “It’s not enough that we train to fight. We should prepare for every eventuality. We must be ready to…” She blinks. “…we can ill afford any hesitation.”

He chuckles darkly and stands to face her. “Do I really make you so miserable? That you would want to practice killing me?”

“No! It’s not like that at all!” She steps around him toward her vanity, and begins to gather her hair into a pleat. “You don’t understand…I—I _knew_ it was a demon. I _knew_ it wasn’t you, but…when I looked into his— _it’s_ eyes, when it said my name in your voice…” She sighs and shakes her head, fastening her hair with a small ribbon. “I hesitated. I was _weak_ and it nearly cost us both.”

She looks up to see him with his back still to her, shaking his head.

“No one calls it weakness,” he says.

“I do.”

At that he quiets and Lavinet grabs her things and leaves.


	4. drowning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _  
> " Chase wouldn’t be able to do it: someone else would have to step in and take over."  
>  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Female MC/Chase

He twirls the gun up from his holster.

“Chase…Chase, _please,_ ” she whispers. (“ _Don’t stop._ ”)

He inspects the barrel. It’s a full round, but he only needs a single bullet.

“You know me…” her voice breaks and falters. (“ _…so well_ ,” she purrs.)

He clears his throat, steps back a few paces. Executions are always a messy business.

“Chase…?” (He pretends to sleep just so she’ll kiss him awake.)

“Everyone ready?” he asks.

Recruits surround the she-demon. Some hold swords, others hold the ends of the chains that bind her, all of them nod as he sweeps his gaze across them.

Chase nods his head. “Right.” He coughs and she moans quietly into her bindings. “Let’s do this.”

He aligns his body with hers, ignores the lump that begins to form because it’s foolish, unnecessary— _it isn’t even her_.

He aims at right at the top of her skull (where he places the most tender of kisses) as she faces the ground. She lifts her gaze back up at him, eyes shining, pleading, leaves him breathless at the shock. He has to yank his aim back where it’s wandered, hopes the recruits didn’t notice.

She’s still looking at him, her eyes begging and pleading—he knows those looks too well by now—until she stops and lets her tears fall with impunity.

“ _Chase_ ,” she begs, “ _please_ … _I don’t want to die_ …”

His arm is shaking now, burning, he can’t help it. Every inch of him is _screaming_ to run to her, pull her out of those chains, and kiss her until she stops.

But his gun is still pointing at her, no matter how much it waivers; his trigger fingers remains because he knows _you’re not real, you’re not her, it’s not you—_

— _please._

“Chase! Please don’t do this me!” she wails, “ _I love you!_ ”

He feels his heart and lungs constrict, begging for air—drowning on land.

_No, no, no._

_This isn’t—not now, not like this…you can’t be…_

“ _Chase, please! It’s me!_ ” she cries as the doors to the grounds burst open.

“Why isn’t that thing dead yet?” Blade grits out as he marches in.

“No, please wait!” She begins to pull away and thrash in her chains. “Chase!” She sobs at him and his feet work faster than his head as he goes to intercept Blade.

“There must be some mistake—” he hears himself say but Blade ignores him and orders the recruits to stand back as he pulls out his sword.

“Chase! Stop him!”

Chase runs forward, “Wait! No, no, don’t—!”

“Chase!”

She screams, gurgles, and drops and Chase falls to his knees at the sight of black ichor streaming down her throat.

 

* * *

 

It had been thirty-six hours.

“It’s a precaution,” Tallys had told him as she checked his eyes one last time, “to make sure the demon hasn’t left you cursed you in any way.”

He had instinctively blinked away from whatever odoriferous leaves she waved in front of him. It seemed to be the reaction she wanted as not soon after he was officially free to go.

“Provided that you never do such a thing again,” she said as she made her final notes.

He’d merely shrugged his clothes back on and went straight for the door.

“Oh, and you’re on cleaning duty for the rest of the month,” Tallys called out behind her.

Chase slammed the door behind him, marched his way across the compound, through the labyrinth of hallways, picked the lock of his lover’s door, kicked off his boots and threw himself onto the most comfortable bed this side of Ashtown.

When he wakes up, it’s to the feel of a warm kiss on each eyelid.

“ _Somebody_ pissed off Blade, didn’t he?”

Chase hums. “It was my turn this week.”

“Oh? And next week?” she asks, already pulling away and his eyes snap open to follow her as she stands up from the bed toward her drawers.

“Red’s.”

She laughs and he could swear he sees it glitter. “Not Trouble?”

Chase props himself up onto his elbows, grinning. “He was last week.”

“How have you been sleeping?”

Chase deflates a little before regaining himself. He drops his voice a register or so, “Not even half as well as I do in your bed.”

She chuckles and he feels a wonderful twisting in his gut.

She’s still smiling when she turns around with an armful of clothes. “Feel free to sleep in here if you need to while I’m gone,” she says, and begins stuffing a bag on the nightstand.

“Leaving me already?” He doesn’t bother to hide the disappointment in his voice.

“Just for a few days, a week at most,” she says, and turns to look at him with a pout. “I really would prefer to stay with you,” she says quietly, “but it’s urgent.”

He nods. “I understand. Duty, responsibility, and so on.” He plops back down onto her bed with a sigh.

When he’s finished, she leans over and presses a kiss to his forehead, then cards her fingers through his hair just the way he likes. He nearly purrs, he’s so bewitched, and notices too late when she kisses him and she pulls away before he can react.

He blinks up at her disappointedly, startling at the frown on her face, how she bites at her bottom lip, and seemingly glares at the corner of the pillowcase that she rolls between her fingertips.

“You don’t ever have to tell me what happened with that demon,” she says suddenly, without looking at him. “And whatever happened, whatever it said to you, however you reacted…it’s not your fault.”

She turns to him now, places a gentle hand over his and squeezes. “It’s a demon, and all it wanted to do was to hurt you, make you question everything you thought you knew, make you want things you can never have—” She sighs and blinks away tears. “Just…don’t believe a word it said.”

It’s like she’s thrust his head underwater, all he thought he knew is warbled and distorted, seeps the warmth from him. And as she gathers her things and whispers goodbye, she leaves with all the air in his lungs.

Leaves him drowning on her bed.

**Author's Note:**

> Follow [my personal tumblr](http://impeccably-stressed.tumblr.com/) if you like memes, foxes, raccoons, and shitposting.
> 
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> 
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